


tied together

by carthe_angel



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Ficlet Collection, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-03
Updated: 2015-09-03
Packaged: 2018-04-18 19:35:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4717931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carthe_angel/pseuds/carthe_angel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of ficlets in an alternate universe where some people are born with a soulmate mark on their wrist.  </p><p>To say that he was surprised would be an understatement.  If you were to ask Silva as a child to make a list on who he thinks his soulmate is going to be, a married teammate wouldn't even make the top hundred.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tied together

**Author's Note:**

> Just a collection of little ficlets that I've written about soulmate silvilla. they'll all be in the same universe :)

Silva was born with the soul mark etched into the middle of his left inner wrist. 

He was the only one in his family, so all the information he got about it was from telenovelas, movies, and the internet. He had this whole idea of what having a soulmate was going to be like. He would know who it was the moment their eyes meet. They would have this indescribable connection immediately, would have everything in common and there would never be an awkward or uncomfortable moment in their relationship. They would just click, like two pieces in a puzzle, and nothing could ever separate them.

To say that it didn’t go as he expected would be an understatement. He meets Patricia first.

He’s nineteen years old and had just returned from his loan spell at Eibar. He’s been told that they’re going to loan him out again, this time to Celta. His manager assures him that his progress is good, and if he continues like this, he’ll be almost guaranteed a starting position next year. 

He’s not surprised, but he’s still disappointed. He's still mulling over the news when he turns a corner to go to the dressing room. He's so distracted he doesn’t notice a young, pretty woman walking the opposite way towards him with her head down. They collide awkwardly, but Silva’s quick enough to grab her wrist before she falls down.

“Are you alright?” He lets go of her wrist. “I’m sorry, I was distracted - ”

To his surprise, she just laughs. “It’s okay, I should’ve been looking at where I was going.” She smiles at him and Silva can’t help but smile nervously back at her. She has this charm around her that makes him feel at ease, his usual shyness slowly fading away. “Are you a youth player?”

He blushes. “No, but I’ll be loaned out this year to Celta. I haven’t played for the first team yet.”

“You’ll get your shot,” she replies with an encouraging smile. “My husband just signed, so maybe you two will play together next year.”

Now that Silva thinks about it, he remembers vaguely some rumours about a David Villa transferring to Valencia. He’s never met him, but he’s heard about how great a signing this was for Valencia. “I hope so.”

“Patricia!”

They both turn their heads to see a man come out of the dressing room. He’s only slightly taller than Silva, with dark hair, even darker eyes, and a goatee. The man’s eyes sweeps over Patricia to Silva and when their eyes meet, for a second, Silva’s world freezes. His left wrist starts to tingle, starting at the middle and then spreading slowly to both sides. His heart’s pounding, his ears are buzzing and suddenly the corridor doesn’t seem to have enough oxygen to support him.

The other man’s eyes widen and the feeling of surprise that doesn’t feel wholly his hits Silva right in the chest. He has to take a couple lungfuls of air and leans against the wall to support most of his body in the aftermath of whatever the hell that was. In the corner of his eye, he could vaguely see Patricia kiss the man on the cheek affectionately. Villa doesn’t react to her at all - his eyes are still trained, shocked, on Silva.

And with a heart heavy with dread, Silva looks down at his left wrist. Where there was once a black swirl that was his soul mark, there is now a clearly legible name: David Villa.


End file.
